Kenosha Writers’ Group

“The Worst Possible Thing”

Many, many things, skunks, vampires and a toad that gives you warts, are bad. An itch unreachable, that’s really ill fortune. If it’s a love itch, man that yearning is awful.
I once owned a Beagle Hound that lay around the house and farted all day long! That is a grabber and will send you for the oxygen tank even if gramps had to gasp for a while, and besides we always got it back in the nick of time.
Have you ever had a chocolate bar and happen to drop it in some gross looking stuff on the sidewalk? Accidents will happen, but that, well, just an unholy mess.
Girls think worming a fish is probably one of the worst things they could do, and the other four that run close are a bad kisser, a bad hair day, bad skin and a bad relationship. Yet, not even close to that slimy worm while you’re pushing the innards out in threading it on the barb of a hook.
I’ve heard it said the worst thing is childbirth. Oh, not the little guy or the small precious girl that erupts. That’s the greatest, but the pain is real suffering. Anyhow women are always saying, “you men would gives us a little more sympathy if it were you giving birth” Maybe?
You know that cartoon where a person falls into a prickly cactus– ouch!
How about the state of Minnesota, that is, the state’s bird Mr. Mosquito. The little ones carry you across the lake to eat you so the big boys can’t take you from them. You’d know what I was talking about if you’ve been in northern Minnesota, at the edge of a forest clearing, just after dusk. Shit fire, it’s nothing but buzzes, slap, buzz, slap,slap, slap. A real drag.
How about all that scary stuff at Halloween, especially that headless guy? Bad, bad stuff if you’re eight or ten years old.
Now here is one that’s really beastly. Some grizzly, bloody road kill. Guts, maggots, flies, with the crows pecking at it with little bits of fur drifting all around. That is totally unhinging and barfable.
We’re closing in on the worst possible thing. Let me think, could it be, oh dear I know one I forgot; dirty, greasy fingernails that you scrub and scrub until they bleed. They just will not come clean and then are so sore when bending your fingers. Damn- the pain goes down and up your whole arm; a real drag.
I once approached a girl at school I wanted to date. She was sitting at a table alone in the Union Cafe at Marquette University. She was pretty as a picture, short, round intellegent face, long locks, full lips. When I sat down and introduced myself she didn’t say a thing, just got up and walked away, the B….. And what do you do– cold showers and Playboy. That’s the pits.
That one is a prelude to the worst possible thing, the first step into the abyss.
OK here it is, that eventuality, that horrid something, that unmentionable thing is to be ignored. Ask a question, nothing, nada. Say something, zilch and no one even looks your way. Talk to your wife, husband, children, mother, father, whomever and—silence. You just plain do not exist. You’re not even a fly speck on a wall. That is distress. You don’t count in their life, that’s pain, annihilation my friends. That’s the worst possible thing!